


'context is everything"

by MrsRidcully



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Broken Sunglasses, Flirting, For the Woobies, Getting Together, Loss of Virginity, M/M, PWP, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 04:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30116862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/pseuds/MrsRidcully
Summary: if this was peters idea of revenge, Stiles was going to have to break his sunglasses more often.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 36
Kudos: 251
Collections: Steter collection





	'context is everything"

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a prompt I saw on Facebook of all places and then it grew a life of its own. All the thanks and love to #Bunnywest for full stop throwing.  
> Bentley Platinum sunglasses are indeed as expensive as stated and yes Peter would own a pair

His muscles were yelling bloody murder, and he swore his lungs were on fire. He’d just lean against this nice tree for a minute to catch his breath. The undergrowth cracked and rustled as someone came barreling through. _Fuck my life,_ Stiles groaned internally. 

“I _said_ I was sorry, Peter,” Stiles called somewhat breathlessly, backing away from the angry Alpha.

“Sorry, boy? You’re _sorry?_ I don’t think ‘sorry’ is going to replace a pair of _Bentley Platinum Sunglasses!_ ” Peter’s eyes flashed, but all Stiles could focus on was the way Peter's chest strained against the cotton of his shirt—it was like the man wore tight shirts just to torment him.

“Who the _fuck_ spends forty-five grand on a pair of sunglasses?” He yelled back—well, tried to—he still hadn’t quite gotten his breath back, and it may have come out a little shriller than he intended.

“I do, you little shit.” Peter lunged and Stiles darted, or rather, flailed to the left, avoiding the outstretched arm that was reaching for him.

“Well, you shouldn't have left them where they would get sat on!” Stiles threw back, looking over his shoulder for an escape route.

“ _They were on the table!_ ” Peter's voice was rising and Stiles could see that now would be a good time to run.

“You want me, Peter? Come get me.” Stiles was astounded at his own bravado. 

Peter grinned, which was kind of creepy, but also kind of hot and nope, Stiles was really not going to unpack all those thoughts right now.

“Want you, dear boy? In which way?” Peter’s grin was downright lewd, and yeah, scary hot. Now Stiles was dealing with a fear-boner and that wasn’t helping his thought process any. Peter continued, “Both ways would involve rope, but it's best to make the distinction before we proceed.” 

And now Stiles’s fear-boner was just a... _boner_ -boner, and Stiles's brain may have short circuited for a minute, just long enough for Peter to get the upper hand—and chest—on Stiles. His back hit the tree with a thud, and Stiles found himself stuck between a hard place and, well. An equally hard place—Peter Hale's _body._

  
“I can smell your arousal, boy. You like the idea, don't you?” Peter was close enough that Stiles could feel Peter's body heat.

Tipping his head to the side, he tried to affect an unimpressed attitude. “Dude, I'm nineteen. I get horny at the drop of a hat. Don't think you’re special.” 

Peter smirked. “But the thing is, you don’t Stiles. Oh, I’ve seen you flirt and flash those bambi eyes, but you never smell the way you do right now. They don’t do it for you do they, those jocks and school boys? They don’t push your buttons—they don't make you _want_ .”  
  
Stiles breathed hard through his nose, trying not to show how close to the bone Peter had hit. He was right, and it was annoying and frustrating and _so_ typically Peter, to dig out the truth without any anaesthetic.

He thunked his head back against the tree, eyeing Peter—Peter Fucking Hale, who was the root of his problem. No-one measured up to the Peter Hale scale that Stiles had built up in his mind, and it’s not like he could have Peter, so he didn’t bother with anyone. God, he was going to die alone and a virgin, he just knew it.  
  


“Tell me, Stiles, has anyone offered you this before? Or are you still a virgin?” Peter was now pushing up against Stiles, his breath huffing against his neck.Okay, his creepy side was back but yep, he was still hot—and holy shit, was Peter _actually_ propositioning him?

”Virgin as in ‘another human doing the deed with me?” —Stiles waggled a hand—”eeeh, not technically. But I do have Gilbert at home, and he's been all up in my stuff.” Stiles tried for a sexy eyebrow wiggle. He was pretty sure he failed.

_“Gilbert?”_ Peter raised an amused eyebrow.

Stiles looked everywhere but at Peter, “Um, yeah. Gilbert Grape. It's my um, uh”—Peter pulled a face that could only be described as exasperated amusement—“fine! My dildo. My is dildo is named Gilbert.” Jesus, wasn’t like his night could get any weirder, why not add a little embarrassment to the mix?

  
  


Peter’s expression went from amused to hungry in the blink of an eye, and he leaned and purred,“Would you like me to help you with that pesky virginity problem, Stiles?” Peter said his name like a sinful promise, and Stiles was articulate as always with his response—well, as articulate as you could be with a hot werewolf daddy pressing you against a tree while you felt his impressive dick against your thigh. Wait—that meant Peter was as wildy turned on as he was, and wow, that was kind of a cool revelation 

“Uh—oh my god, it that your—” Stiles blurted out.

“Yes, darling it is. Now use your words, Stiles. Do you want to come home with me and let me fuck you?” Peter said the words slowly and clearly.

“Are you serious?” Stiles tried to come to terms with the improbable fact that Peter Hale wanted to fuck him. He was totally on board with the idea though, because fuck, why not? This was like all his porn fantasies come to life, with Peter Hale and what Stiles could only imagine was his magnificent dick in a starring role.

“Words, sweetheart. I take consent very seriously.” Peter’s hand had somehow found its way into Stiles’s hair and he gave it a soft tug. Fuck, that felt good. Yet more things to unpack at a later date.

Words came tumbling out at a rate that even Stiles was impressed by. “Oh my god—yes, please and thank you. Your place, us, naked, now.”

Peter let out a soft if somewhat villainous chuckle, and picked Stiles up in a bridal hold.

* * *

If asked later, no Stiles would _not_ remember the trip between the preserve and Peter’s apartment, or how and when exactly all his clothes had fallen off. It was a mystery for the ages. 

Right now, all he could focus on was the way Peter was kissing him. It was not how Stiles had imagined it, and yeah, he’d imagined kissing Peter Hale way more than was probably healthy, but that wasn’t the point.

Peter kissed him like he was something special, his kisses both demanding and soft, and Stiles was pretty sure kissing Peter Hale was definitely top of his ‘top ten must-do-again-soon’ list.

Before they had even gotten to the bed Peter’s hands were all over Stiles, and he shivered at each touch. When Peter laid him on the bed Stiles shivered not at the cold—because hello, hot werewolf body looming over him—but because said hot werewolf was looking at him like he wanted to _devour_ him.

Peter was kissing a path down Stiles’s belly, wet kisses and soft nips. “You going to eat me, big bad?” _Way to go Stiles._ Sometimes his mouth had a mind of its own.

Peter lifted his head, his eyes glowing softly. “I would very much like to.” All Stiles could do was nod mutely. When Peter's mouth, in all its warm, wet, glory, surrounded the head of Stiles’s cock, Stiles was pretty sure he saw the face of god, and she definitely looked pleased with herself.

Peter did things with his mouth and tongue that were both inspiring and downright wicked. Stiles wondered if Peter would give him lessons. But he lost his train of thought when Peter did something obscene with his tongue and increased the suction. Stiles was almost certain he blacked out at the point where his cock and Peter's throat got acquainted. His whole body buzzed with pleasure and he came embarrassingly quickly after that, but he was honestly pretty sure he had another dozen in him, if it meant Peter would just keep doing those wickedly delightful things with his mouth.

Instead, Peter made his way slowly back up his body, peppering kisses and soft bites along the way and making Stiles hum. When he reached Stiles's face he kissed him deeply. Stiles could taste himself on Peter's tongue, and his already spent cock gave a valiant twitch. “If you’re too tired, sweetheart, we can stop.” Peter's face showed concern, and maybe Stiles was just imagining it after such an amazing orgasm, but Peter looked almost...affectionate.

Absently stroking Peter’s pretty face, Stiles gave a soft growl. “You promised me a de-virginifying.” 

Peter laughed softly against Stiles's neck. “De-virginifying, Stiles? Really?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yup,” he said, popping the p loudly. “I said what I meant and meant what I said—unless, you know, _you_ don’t want to?”

“Oh, I want you, Stiles. I have done for quite a while,” Peter purred.

Okay, wow. That was new information—good information, sure, but—really? They could have been doing this before now? 

“Roll onto your stomach for me, sweetheart.” Peter's voice was low and sultry, and Stiles rolled bonelessly onto his front, breathing in deeply. The pillows smelled like Peter. He felt the bed shift as Peter got off and the sound of a drawer being opened and closed. The bed dipped, and then there was the warm touch of Peter's hand on his back. He let out a soft gasp when Peter softly kissed his lower back, and a louder gasp when Peter's lips moved lower.

Moaning into the pillow, Stiles rocked his hips into Peter's touch. He lost his grip on coherent thought with the first swipe of Peter’s wicked tongue across his hole. He managed, _“Ohmyfuckingodthatsgood,”_ before Peter’s tongue pushed insistently at his hole, mouthing at him with a hungry growl. Stiles was so caught up in the pleasure of Peter’s magic tongue he didn’t even notice the first finger, slick with lube, slide in alongside the probing tongue.

Peter removed his mouth but continued to fuck Stiles with his finger, smoothing the lube inside him, stretching his walls and rubbing him in all the deliciouusly right places. When that finger was joined by a second, he had a brief moment of pain/heat, but the stretch was not much more than he experienced with Gilbert. But Gilbert was silicon, and well. A dildo. These were Peter's wicked fingers, and they seemed on a mission to snag his sweet spot each time they thrust into his body. 

Stiles risked a glance over his shoulder, and he was left open-mouthed and awestruck at what he saw. Peter’s eyes were glowing red, his expression a mix of lust and concentration while he watched his fingers fuck into Stiles’s slick hole. 

That had to be the hottest thing Stiles had ever seen. Peter caught his eye and smiled, a slow languid thing, warm and wicked, and Stiles was so. So, fucked. Peter was ruining him for any other lover, of that Stiles was certain.

Stiles rocked back on Peter’s fingers in a state of bliss. A third had joined the party and he was almost ready to sing hallelujah. The stretch and burn were nothing when compared to the amazing feeling of fullness. Stiles moaned with pleasure, imagining what it was going to feel like when Peter’s cock joined in the fun. 

“You’re so amazingly responsive, Stiles.” Peter removed his fingers and Stiles let out a soft whine, but it tapered off as he felt Peter’s weight drape over him and Peter whispered in his ear, “I can’t wait to slide into you.” Stiles mewled as Peter rubbed the head of his cock over Stiles’s hole. “Exhale and bear down, sweetheart. It'll be easier.” Stiles let out a long, shaky breath, and squeaked as the head of Peter’s cock slipped past the first ring of muscle.

“Mother moon, Stiles. I’ve dreamed of fucking you. I want to fill you up, feel you squeezing down on my cock, fuck you till you’re screaming my name.”

Oh god. Stiles’s cock throbbed with every word that Peter spoke, and at the sensuous, slow slide of Peter’s cock filling him. 

They were both panting and dripping with sweat by the time Peter bottomed out. The feel of Peter’s coarse pubic hair against his skin was surreal, and _such_ a fucking turn on. “Fuck me, Peter, _please._ ” Stiles wasn’t even embarrassed at how needy his voice came out—he didnt give a fuck All he wanted was for Peter to fuck him, own him from the inside out. Stiles let out a low, grateful moan as Peter began to rock slowly into him, and then pull out with a slow, sensual drag. Jesus, the man could fuck all the secrets out of you just by doing this. This slow, considerate fucking wasn’t how Stlles had imagined sex with Peter would go. 

This...this was so much better.  
  
Stiles let out a low grunt when Peter snapped his hips forward. Peter set a steady tempo, the room filling with the slap of skin on skin and the primal sounds of their coupling. 

Without warning, Peter pulled Stiles upright so they were both on their knees. One of Peter’s hands wrapped around Stiles’s leaking cock, and Stiles moaned at the feel of that firm, warm hand on him, and the dirty words whispered in his ear. “Come for me, Stiles. Squeeze around me and milk me dry.” Peter’s voice was strained, like he was barely holding on. At Peter’s first firm tug on his cock Stiles came, ropes of cum hitting his chest and covering Peter's hand. Peter hissed between his teeth, the arm around Stiles’s belly gripping tightly, Peter panting in his ear as he came. His cock throbbed inside Stiles’s fluttering hole, and it was like nothing he had ever felt before. 

Stiles slumped back, wincing slightly as Peter's cock slipped out of him. He was going to feel tonight's workout in the morning. The thought made him hum happily as Peter lowered him onto the sheets.

The bed shifted as Peter moved and padded softly out of the room. Stiles was vaguely aware of light in the halfway before it was shut off again, then the bed dipped and Peter's lips were against his cheek. “Let me clean us up, sweet boy, and then you can sleep.”

“Mhmmph.” Stiles sleepily complied, wanting to purr at the gentle touches as Peter cleaned him and the warm cloth against his tender, used hole. 

“A little red, but nothing unexpected for a first time. I think you’ll be fine. Maybe even fine enough to ride me before breakfast tomorrow?” Peter whispered against Stiles’s skin, draping himself around Stiles’s back.

“Mmm, yes please.” Stiles mumbled, soaking up the unexpected but not unwelcome post-coital cuddles. “Wait, you said you had ropes. When do those come out?”

Peter laughed hard enough that the bed shook, and he held Stiles tighter. “Soon enough, little one. We have all the time in the world. Now that I have you, I won't be letting you slip through my fingers.”

“ ‘kay. Sounds good.” Stiles flopped over and spread himself across Peter's chest, enjoying the warm expanse of skin. He liked the idea of doing this again with Peter—of there _being_ a him and Peter. Maybe sitting on Peter’s expensive glasses had actually been a good thing. 

Not that he’d be bringing that up with Peter just yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my Stuffs ™


End file.
